


A Brief Vacation

by mind_and_malady



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blowjobs, Breakfast, But Only a Little Bit - Freeform, But only a little, Fluff, Library Sex, M/M, Please Don't Kill Me, Porn With Plot, Showers, Smut, Translation in Russian Available, Vague mentions of Lucifer's Cage, halo!kink, i think, season 8 AU, wing!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:13:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mind_and_malady/pseuds/mind_and_malady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there are showers, pancakes, and revelations of a major kind. Or, the Winchesters are dragged into Gabriel's house for 48 hours, because the angels seem to think they need a break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Brief Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a smutty little fic of Sam and Gabriel in a library where Sam got Gabriel off using just his halo. It turned into this monstrosity of nearly 7000 words. I am so, so sorry.  
> (There is now a Russian translation of this fic by the lovely Shiorino! It's located here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/3405428 )

The hunt had been long and hard and everyone was exhausted. The fact that the elemental they’d been hunting had turned out to be a _really_ pissed off witch hadn’t helped. That a whole _nest_ of demons had turned up had been the icing on the fucking cake. Dean’s shoulder was dislocated, Sam had at least four broken ribs and an ankle that was either severely sprained or broken, and Cas was pretty damned drained. For that last reason, and that last reason _only_ , Castiel called on Gabriel, because he couldn’t help both Winchesters in their mutually damaged state.

“Hey little bro!" Gabriel popped into the room cheerfully, seemingly heedless of their injuries. Sam would’ve rolled his eyes at the smell of good alcohol and the shimmer of glitter in the archangel’s hair, hinting at a previous, more entertaining location, if he hadn’t been having some serious trouble breathing without pain.

“A little help, please, Gabriel?” Castiel managed to request as he focused every fiber of his being on healing Dean.

Gabriel had been grudgingly helpful since his resurrection post Dean’s return from Purgatory. He bitched and he whined, but he threw them bones every now and again. Cas trusted him, and that was good enough for Sam, but Dean needed something more solid – and Gabriel hadn’t given them a single reason to trust him beyond mildly helpful info, which didn’t help, and Dean was suspicious about the fact that he’d dropped off and reappeared after 3 years.

“With what?” Gabriel asked, eyebrow raised and smirking. Sam was entirely ready to smack him, which was not entirely unusual, but normally he didn’t imagine the quick movement of his hand over the back of Gabriel’s absurdly glittery hair so _vividly_. Must be the leftover adrenaline. Or his body working overtime to keep his brain supplied with oxygen.

“Preferably healing Sam,” Castiel grounded out, giving his brother a pointed look.

“What? Can’t be that bad, nobody is dying and Dean-o isn’t yelling –" Gabriel paused. “But _you_ ,” he rounded on Sam, “aren’t making any annoyed comments. Huh.”

“Kinda hard to,” Sam wheezed, trying hard to take in enough air to talk without forcing himself to really take a breath, “when half my ribs are broke.”

Gabriel’s face went rapidly from his normal smirk, to an honest-but-alien look of concern. He crossed the room in a few quick strides, and Sam melted into the healing presence of Gabriel’s Grace. It was sharp and precise, nimbly plucking its way over his ribs and his ankle to knit together broken bones, healing bruised and strained muscles along the way with crackling sparks like lightning.

The archangel stepped away from him, mouth quirked upwards in the corners until Sam started swaying on his feet. “Sam?”

Sam blinked rapidly, and then shook his head, steadying himself. “I’m fine,” he said, and he _meant_ it – he felt better than he had in a long while, but he was pretty sure that now that the myriad of injuries he’d had before this hunt even started, not to mention the ones he’d recently sustained, were gone, his body was ready to pass out. It was easy for Sam not to realize he was running himself ragged until something like this happened.

“You look like hell, Sam,” Gabriel said seriously, any traces of joking gone.

Sam shrugged his massive shoulders with a tired smile, because he’d looked like Hell warmed over for a long time, and that wouldn’t really change any time soon. He glanced over to Cas, where a healed Dean looked like he wanted to berate the angel for healing him when he wasn’t at the top of game to begin with, but unable to without sounding like a truly ungrateful dick.

“You and Sam should take a break, Dean,” Castiel addressed Dean seriously.

“What?” Dean scoffed. “Are you kidding?! We’ve got to track down Crowley and find the tablets –“

“You haven’t taken so much as a day off in more than three months, regardless of whatever injuries you may have sustained,” Cas pressed, frowning. “A few days of rest would do you good.”

“Little bro’s right,” Gabriel agreed, nodding. “You two aren’t good to anybody half-dead. Hey!” he straightened up a bit, grinning in a way that would concern most people. “I know! You two can take the weekend off for a little R&R at my place!”

Sam and Dean blinked at each other, and their mouths were already opening in twin cries of _No!_ when Gabriel snapped his fingers and they were somewhere else.

The room Sam found himself standing in had dark floors and creamy walls, a full-out entertainment system, and the longest couch Sam had ever seen; he could probably lay out on it with his arms above his head and still have plenty of room to stretch. The room had a warm atmosphere, something cheerful and drizzly similar to how honey tasted, but it also felt safe in a way that touched Sam in his bones.

It was vaguely unsettling. He glanced over to Dean, who had an expression on his face that was somewhere between impressed and freaked out, which was probably what Sam himself looked like. Castiel looked annoyed, and Gabriel was bursting with pride

“So, what d’you think?” he smirked, eyebrows raised. “One of my littler places. Feel free to poke around; I’m gonna go round up anything that might be…dangerous.”

The archangel vanished with a snap, and Castiel looked just about ready to roll his eyes. “I suppose that it would be wise for the two of you to find rooms to sleep in. I doubt he’ll let you leave until your vacation is over.”

“C’mon Cas,” Dean looked almost pitiful. “Do we really have to stick around here for a whole weekend when we could be –“

“While I disagree with Gabriel’s methods of keeping you from hunting, I cannot say that I don’t believe you both need to take a break,” Castiel said, taking the tone one might use when one was talking to an obstinate child.

Once the arguing started, Sam slipped out of the room and started wandering through the seemingly endless hallways, poking his head into open rooms and wisely leaving closed doors alone. He found himself in one room with a bed that could have held three of him, with a whole wall of windows facing a large body of water that could have been either an ocean or a lake, and the door to a luxurious looking bathroom was ajar. Almost without thinking, he walked inside, and after about three seconds of simply staring, Sam decided, very firmly, to take a shower and then pass out on the bed that looked almost sinfully delicious.

It was out of habit, really, that he turned the water up as hot and as hard as it could. When Sam stepped under the spray, dirty clothes happily abandoned on the floor, he _hissed_ from the heat and the pressure; but then he had trouble not moaning under it as the water made his arms sting and tingle with heat and hit his shoulder _just so_ to drive at a knot there. He took his sweet time, washing thoroughly with the pleasantly scented soaps already in the shower, and then just letting the water pound at him, glorifying in the luxury of it. Motels were hardly well-known for perfect water pressure and endless hot water; he hadn’t lived in them his whole life, but even when he was at Stanford, or with Amelia, showers like _this_ had only happened in far-fetched daydreams.

He had no idea how long he’d actually been in the shower, but he figured it must’ve been awhile when someone knocked on the door. Sam took it as a sign, and turned off the water, practically purring at the feel of the soft and fluffy towel as he wrapped it around his waist. His skin was burning red and hot, tingling with the delicious memory of the water. He opened the door, steaming billowing around him, soaking wet and entirely mellowed out, not even caring who it might be on the other side that was going to end up seeing him naked with the exception of a towel. He felt mildly surprised that Gabriel had actually knocked on the door and hadn’t just popped in.

Gabriel blinked at the entirely relaxed look of Sam, the lazy half smile. “You’ve been in there for an hour,” he informed him. Sam didn’t look entirely surprised by that.

“Your shower is amazing,” Sam replied, grinning like a puppy that’s been given permission to run through every muddy puddle it wanted.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “There are nicer ones,” he waved off Sam’s words. “I didn’t go full-out on this house; it's a little more modest.”

Sam stared at him. “Your shower is the greatest shower I’ve ever been in,” he amended after a moment, a small, tired crease between his brow and Gabriel was ready to smack himself because now Sam was doing that adorable little puppy face again and he was gloriously wet and practically naked and he _really_ shouldn’t have taken Sam out of his shower.

“You gonna want clothes?” Gabriel asked, distracting himself, but very happily letting his eyes roam over Sam’s toned chest.

Sam nodded. “Sure. I just need my bag and –“

Gabriel snapped his fingers, and a set of flannel pajamas appeared on the bathroom counter. “Call it a gift,” Gabriel smiled, and he knew he looked _soft_ but he couldn’t help it. Maybe it was a side effect of being a Trickster, or being a ‘classic’ angel, but people like Sam, who did everything they could to help others, even at the risk of their own health, maybe _especially_ at the risk of their own health…he had a habit of treating them, rather than tricking them. Gabriel felt like it went to a bit of a different level with Sam, though, which was vaguely unsettling.

But something about seeing the giant hunter honestly _enjoy_ something as simple as a nice shower the way most people would enjoy sleeping in a five-star hotel in the Mediterranean was…heartbreakingly _sad_ , if Gabriel was being honest with himself. He knew that neither of the Winchesters had grown up normally, living in some of the seediest motels Gabriel had ever seen, even counting back in the olden days, and the olden days’ olden days. He knew that Sam had had multiple chances at a normal life and had apparently, despite that, had never been in a place where he could take a nice _long_ shower. Which shouldn’t have made him as upset as it did, but Gabriel enjoyed the simple pleasures of life just as much as the extravagant ones. To see deserving people being denied those pleasures was simply _wrong._

“Um,” Sam blinked down at the clothes, and then smiled gratefully at Gabriel. “Thanks, Gabe.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at the nickname, and grinned. “No problem, Sammy.” He vanished with a snap of his fingers, almost missing Sam rolling his eyes in fond annoyance.

Sam dried off and dressed quickly, exhaustion creeping up on him and desperately wanting to stretch out on that enormous bed. His skin was radiating even more warmth than usual, like it had absorbed the heat of the shower water, and it still tingled slightly under the warm clothes. He buried himself in the bed, almost moaning at the feel of the sheets and the softness of a bed that was actually _comfortable._ He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept on a bed this nice, and knew that he’d _never_ slept on a bed meant to contain all of him, stretched to full capacity.

Sleep was almost too-easy to find, the comfort of the bed, the warmth of the shower, and the deeply-rooted _safety_ of Gabriel’s house combining with exhaustion in a potent mix that had Sam asleep in minutes.

***

_Cold. Ice cold, freezing, it was so fucking COLD –_

_Laughter, hard and cruel and angry and insane –_

_Screaming that wasn’t his, screaming that was –_

_“C’mon Sam, we aren’t done playing yet!”_

Sam woke up in a cold sweat, shaking and shivering despite the warmth of the blankets. He stared up at the ceiling blankly, feeling hollowed out and _cold_. Castiel might have taken away the insanity that came with being Lucifer’s chew-toy for any length of time, but that didn’t take away the memories, or the pain associated with them.

Sam wandered out of the room, barefoot and still tired, but too edgy to sleep. He walked until he found himself in something that would have resembled a kitchen if not for the wide assortment of baked goods and sugary snacks covering most of the counters, and the archangel carefully making a replica of the Disney castle with cookies. Sam’s mouth twitched upwards, and something that felt like laughter threatened to spill out of him at the sight.

“Sam?” Gabriel blinked at the sight of the hunter. “What’re you doing in here?”

“Um,” Sam winced, stepping backwards. “Sorry, I’ll just –“

“No, dumbass, I meant why are you _awake?_ It’s only been, what?” Gabriel checked his wrist, which lacked a watch. “Maybe four hours since you managed to get out of the shower.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Really? Huh. More sleep than I usually get.”

Gabriel tilted his head, questions written on his face.

“Nightmares,” Sam explained vaguely. “They’re all different, but…they’re all the same, too, if that makes sense.”

Comprehension dawned on Gabriel’s face, and his expression was angry for a moment, before it turned into concern. Sam wasn’t sure which made him more nervous. “I could put you to sleep,” Gabriel offered casually, not looking at him as he carefully added another cookie. “Knock you out, dreamless, eight hours.”

Sam considered it for a moment, and remembered the last time an angel had put him to sleep, the _I’ve been drugged_ feeling that came with it, and shook his head. “Nah. I’ll go back to sleep later, just…not right now.”

Gabriel nodded, and waved an arm around the kitchen. “In that case, help yourself.” He resumed his recreation of the Disney castle, and Sam cautiously stole a fraction of the pile of red licorice as he watched. The quiet was surprisingly companionable, and Sam felt himself nodding off again in the chair after maybe an hour of watching the formation of the cookie castle.

“Hey, Sasquatch,” Gabriel flicked his nose slightly and Sam opened his eyes, making a small noise of protest. “You gonna go back to your room, or are you gonna sleep in that chair?”

Sam blinked a few times, and then stood up. “I’ll go,” he replied through a yawn. “Thanks, Gabriel.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I’m here to help you, moron. Now go sleep.” Gabriel pushed him lightly, and Sam wasn’t sure if he had imagined the tingle of Grace in that push or not. Regardless, he collapsed back on the bed, and slept like a dead man.

***

_Lights, vivid and bright and colorful, zipping around. He knows, somehow, that this is in his head, inside him, and that what he’s seeing is Gabriel – not the vessel, but real, genuine archangel Gabriel. He’s joy and sunshine and summer, wrapped up in lightning and rainstorms and sea breezes. He’s beautiful and warm and infinite, and Sam wants to curl around Gabriel's light for the rest of his life, but there's ice at his back and he turns -_

Sam woke up slowly, light from the windows playing behind his eyelids. His limbs felt heavy, like his body was still asleep, and he was content to lay there for a moment, chasing his dream. There’d been vivid color, the smell of ozone, and something he could only identify as _safe_ and _warm_.

Eventually, Sam stretched, yawning and popping his spine, feeling lighter and very much like a limp noodle. He wandered back into the kitchen, barefoot and rubbing his eyes. He paused in the doorway and simply stared.

From what Sam could see, Dean had been trying to make pancakes with Cas. There was a gigantic steaming stack of the fluffy circles sitting on a clear spot on the counter, and a griddle cooling on the counter, surrounded by powdery pancake mix that had either been flung out of the mixing bowl, or missed it entirely. Dean and Cas had happily forgotten about the pancakes in favor of each other, judging by the happy make-out session that had Dean on the counter and Cas between his legs and Sam _really didn’t want to see this._

He coughed loudly and Dean _jumped_ , before scowling at Sam. “Dude!”

“What? You made pancakes. If you wanted morning sex, you should’ve done that wherever you fell asleep.”

Castiel gave a tiny, embarrassed smile. “Hello Sam.”

“Hey Cas,” Sam nodded at the angel, and raised an eyebrow at his brother in a pointed  _you did this to yourself, dude_ kind of way.

Dean made more angry grumbling noises, and hopped off the counter. Sam very pointedly didn’t inform him or Cas that they were somehow covered in pancake mix, instead rifling through the cupboards for plates and evenly dishing out the monster stack of pancakes, while trying not to snicker at the handprint on Dean’s shoulder and the matching one on Castiel’s ass. Dean found the syrup and an assortment of other tooth-achingly sweet toppings, setting them up on the table.

“So,” Dean started, drizzling maple syrup over his pancakes. “Where’s the Candyman?”

Like he’d been summoned, Gabriel appeared, snatching the syrup from Dean and dropping down in the seat they’d left his plate in front of. “Right here, Dean-o,” he smirked. Dean glared at him, the hand that had been holding a bottle of clenching into a fist.

Sam let out a small huff of amusement, buttering his pancakes while he waited for Gabe to pass the bottle of syrup around. It came his way after nearly a third of it was used by the archangel to drown his pancakes, and drizzled it over his own breakfast before passing it on to Castiel. The angel curiously dabbed at the syrup with his finger before tasting it, making a slight face, and handing it to Dean.

“You don’t like syrup, Cassie?” Gabriel said, sounding shocked.

“I do not see what is appetizing about tree sap,” Castiel said seriously. “And please refrain from using that nickname.”

Gabriel grinned. “It’s sweet, Cassie, that’s what’s so good about it. And it goes great with pancakes –“ As he spoke, Gabriel had popped part of a pancake into his mouth, but then froze, making a confused noise. Sam, Dean, and Cas looked at each other before settling on Gabriel, expecting practically anything.

“Who –“ Gabriel swallowed, and then looked around the table accusingly. “Who made these _monsters_?”

“There is nothing wrong with Dean’s pancakes,” Cas defended the hunter, frowning.

“Nothing _wrong?_ ” Gabriel said dubiously. “Nothing _wrong?_ They’re flawless, Dad damnit!” He shoveled half a pancake in his mouth, mumbling around it, “Y’r m’k’ng th’se again.” He swallowed happily, grinning, but then he looked crestfallen. “I’m never gonna be able to eat normal pancakes again,” he griped, sounding mournful.

Sam glanced at his plate curiously. “Are they that good?”

Gabriel fixed him with a deadly serious stare. “Yes.”

Curiously, Sam took a bite of his pancakes, and _moaned._ “Holy shit,” he managed around the mouthful. “Holy _shit._ ”

Gabriel stared at him, frozen, eyes dark and fixed on Sam’s mouth. Then his eyes darted downwards, back to his plate, and distracted himself with the heavenly food to keep his mind off the filthy, possibly illegal noise that Sam had made – was _making_ , rather. Gabriel looked back up again when _Cas_ made a noise just as pornographic as Sam’s had been. Dean was looking at his brother in a way that made him – _him_ , a pagan god – feel dirty. Gabriel had the sneaking suspicion that it was probably revenge for the way he had looked at Sam like a piece of meat.

Dean made a mildly appreciative noise when he ate his own pancakes. “Don’t know what you guys are going on about,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “I could’ve made nicer pancakes, but I didn’t feel like making them from scratch this morning.”

Gabriel stared. “Tomorrow,” he commanded, holding his fork threateningly. “Pancakes. From scratch.”

Dean grumbled, but assented, and breakfast resumed in silence.

****

Sam ended up wandering around the house again after he got dressed, walking down what he would _swear_ was the same hallway he’d been down earlier that morning, even though all the rooms were different. He’d found a movie theater, a swimming pool, and he’d just walked out of the bowling alley when he stumbled across the library.

It was _enormous_ , and Sam had to stop in the doorway to gape for a long few minutes. It was at least four stories high – two going up and at two going down from what he could see – with a winding staircase going through the middle of the round room’s floor. Rows and rows of shelves wound through the room, along the walls, some stacked precariously on the floor by one of the plush couches scattered around. Sam wandered around for a bit, simply absorbing it all, excitement filling him and making him grin like a child because this was _insane._ He could only _imagine_ the kind of research material there might be on the shelves. Or, knowing Gabriel, dropped in a dusty corner.

He was apparently walking through the fiction section, and decided to pick a book up at random, almost laughing when it turned out to be _Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone._ Sam stopped wandering, and made his way back to one of the couches, stretching out on it fully before settling in to read.

He was maybe ten pages in before the rustle of wings and the sudden, surprising weight of an angel on his lap interrupted him. Sam jumped slightly, instinct warring with rational knowledge for a moment, before settling down into amused-but-wary confusion. “Uh, Gabriel?”

“Our brothers are disgusting,” Gabriel grumbled, moving so his feet were propped on the edge of the couch and his head was in Sam’s lap. “They’re in my _kitchen!_ ”

Sam laughed silently, and the archangel swatted at him. “Stop laughing! You’re moving me and I want to take a nap.”

Sam grinned indulgently, forcing himself still. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting to have an archangel napping on me.”

“Get used to it,” Gabriel muttered, eyes closed.

After a moment, he let out a small sigh, and practically melted as he relaxed fully. Sam resisted chuckling, and kept reading as Gabriel’s unnecessary breathing deepened and evened out. His hand moved, mostly of its own accord, to rest on Gabriel’s head and stroke the golden-brown hair there slowly. Gabriel _purred_ , pushing back into the touch, and Sam, who had gone still at the movement and sound, relaxed and continued stroking.

After a couple hours, Sam closed the book, letting it land softly on the floor. He let one hand stray from Gabriel’s hair to run a thumb over his cheekbone before retreating back to the now-messy head of hair. His head lolled to the side, resting against the back of the couch, eyes slipping shut as his consciousness sunk away into oblivion.

***

Gabriel opened his eyes what he felt must’ve been at least five hours since he’d fallen asleep, but it was much darker than it should have been; the area he was in was much smaller and much warmer – _oh._

He had his back pressed to the couch, and his front was being pressed against a cuddly Sam Winchester, who had tucked the archangel against his chest and had wrapped his arms around Gabriel like a python. Gabriel couldn’t say he hadn’t been wishing for something like this from Sam for a _long_ time, though it normally involved more nudity and making-out, but…this was nice, he decided. It was warm, and he was pressed against a wonderfully sculpted chest, so really, how bad could it be?

The answer came in the sudden shudder through Sam’s body as if he’d just experienced a personal temperature drop of thirty degrees, and the heart-wrenching whine of fear through clenched teeth. Gabriel frowned, and let his Grace flow towards Sam, intent on shutting off the nightmare and letting the kid get some good sleep – he’d only slept for about four more hours after the meeting in the kitchen the night before, after all.

He wasn’t expecting how insistent the damn thing was, though. Gabriel knew nightmares came in all different sizes and flavors, mostly from dishing out and receiving more than a few himself. Children’s nightmares were raw and unrefined, dark things that only young minds can produce through the intensity of their first fears. This one, though, was sharp and precise and freezing cold, though it stretched and expanded through Sam’s mind like nothing he’d seen.

Oh. Of course. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was a memory; an awful one, to be fair, but a memory all the same. There wasn’t a lot he could do against memories without dropping inside Sam’s head, except maybe wake the poor kid up. And with little else by way of alternatives that weren’t terribly invasive, Gabriel sent a jolt of Grace through Sam.

After a moment, Sam opened his eyes with an expression that was as lost as it was hollow. Then he blinked, expression clearing, and focused down on Gabriel who was looking up at him worriedly.

Some kind of sixth sense, or maybe just the hunter’s instincts, told Sam what had happened, and he smiled weakly, voice rough with sleep. “Thanks. You – you didn’t have to help.”

“It’s not a problem,” Gabriel answered quietly, honestly. “Really, Sam, it isn’t.”

Sam swallowed, and he looked so guilty that Gabriel had to wonder if he’d gone on some kind of much-regretted killing spree at some point.

“Sam?”

“Why?” Sam breathed out. “Why are you helping us? We got you _killed._ ”

Gabriel snorted. “I could’ve run out of there with you guys, you know. It was my choice to stay and fight.”

Sam’s arms clenched him a little tighter for a second before relaxing marginally. “Stupid choice. You didn’t answer.”

Gabriel sighed. “It’s…it’s a little hard to explain. But I guess it all comes down to the fact that I _know_ you guys try to fight and win against whatever is thrown at you, and that with a little help you do win, because you beat Destiny and Fate at their own game, took down my brother, and then the Leviathans for fuck’s sake; I can trust in that. Also, Cassie needs more than a little help with the whole ‘making choices’ thing sometimes. And – if you ever repeat this to anyone I _will_ kill you, I swear – I like you guys.”

Tension Gabriel had thought was simply part of Sam’s shoulders melted away, and he relaxed further into the couch. And then he snickered. “You’re a big softie.” His grin was wide and childlike and _for the love of all that’s holy, the kid has fucking dimples_.

Gabriel glared. “I’ve killed people; Hell, I _kill_ people, present tense.”

“Bad people,” Sam shrugged. “Not so different from what we do, just…reversed, with the same goal. An angel killing humans to protect other humans; humans killing creatures to protect humans.”

“Shut up, Sam,” Gabriel muttered under his breath.

Sam simply smiled indulgently at him, perpetually tired and safe. Gabriel wondered if he was ever going to notice they were practically cuddling, and then wondered if Sam even cared that they were and _wow_ his heart was trying to keep up with a tango.

There was a long pause, filled with their mingled breathing and the not-quite silent silence.

“Gabriel?”

“Hmm?”

“Do all angels purr, or is that just you?”

Gabriel choked on his own air, stiffening up and going a bizarre shade of red that Sam wanted to call _mortified._ “I – when did I _purr?”_

“After you fell asleep, before I did,” Sam grinned, positively delighted with color of Gabriel’s face. “I touched your hair and you purred like a cat.”

Gabriel groaned, burying his head in Sam’s shirt. Gently, almost teasingly, Sam ran careful fingers through Gabriel’s hair and the archangel couldn’t help the low rumble of pleasure that ran through his chest. Gabriel swatted half-heartedly at Sam’s hand, and he removed his fingers.

“It’s just me,” Gabriel admitted self-consciously after a moment. “Dad decided that since I was Messenger that I’d have something to mark me as such, and, well, halo.”

Sam smiled gently, and let his fingers run through the hair at the base of his neck, and Gabriel _whimpered_ around the low purr he made. “Shit,” Gabriel breathed into Sam, coiling in on himself slightly, feeling his vessel react in a very interested way to what Sam was doing with his hair – with his fucking _halo_.

Sam stilled his hand again and Gabriel whined. “Sam,” he bit out, almost in spite of himself. “ _Please_.”

Gabriel’s tone struck a chord with Sam, and his hand resumed its careful, soothing, fucking _erotic_ movements. “Erogenous zone?” he guessed, not at all perturbed by the fact that he was pretty much getting an archangel off on stroking his halo.

“Like a second fucking prostate,” Gabriel’s voice was a low rumble, and _wrecked._ Sam tugged, very lightly, in the wrong direction, and Gabriel moaned brokenly. “Do that again,” he commanded. Sam obeyed, tugging more of his hair _hard_ and Gabriel felt like he could fucking come right then, from nothing more than halo stimulation.

“This –“ Gabriel’s breath caught, purr almost turning into a growl at a particularly sharp tug. “This doesn’t – _ah, fuck_ – bother you?”

Sam laughed very quietly, and pulled Gabriel’s hair again. The archangel’s entire body jerked against Sam, and Gabriel whimpered, mumbling profanity in a dozen languages against Sam’s shirt. Sam was breathing slightly fast as he answered, “No. It should, but…no.”

There was another harsh pull, low on his skull, and Gabriel’s head fell back with it as a low groan of pleasure-borderline-pain ricocheted through him. One of Sam’s enormous hands slid under him and pushed, shifting them so Sam was on his back and Gabriel was laid out on top of him. One hand stayed in Gabriel’s hair, stroking and pulling and thoroughly _destroying_ the archangel, while the other traveled around – fingers ghosted over his shoulder blades, down the curve of his spine, over the swell of his ass, the edge of his hip. Sam pressed down a little on the spot just between Gabriel’s shoulder blades and Gabriel practically sobbed, clutching at Sam’s shirt as he just got lost in everything Sam was giving him.

“Sam,” Gabriel moaned brokenly, rocking shallowly against him. “Sam, _Sam._ ”

Sam hummed in response as he moved them slowly, guiding Gabriel’s legs to straddle his hips and sitting them both up straight, making it a little easier to get his hands where he wanted them.

“ _Please_ ,” Gabriel pleaded desperately. His forehead was pressed against Sam’s, the hand threading through his hair distracting and pleasurable and almost painful in its intensity when added to the fact that Sam was now – possibly unknowingly – fondling the base of his wings.

“What do you want, Gabriel?” Sam asked, his voice rough and trembling and _fuck_ that was hot. Gabriel groaned in response, and Sam’s hands tightened against his skin and his hair in a way that would’ve been excruciatingly painful if he were human but instead drove him closer to the edge, lightning crackling along his nerves and making him gasp.

“Gabriel,” his name was a growl, ripped from Sam’s throat as he used his grip on the angel’s hair to tilt his head back and force their eyes to meet “What do you _want?_ ”

“You,” the word bubbled out of Gabriel helplessly. “You, anything you want, just you, Sam, _Sam_ –“

And then Sam was kissing him, fierce and hot and unrestrained. Gabriel whimpered into it, let Sam invade his mouth with a hand around his halo and a hand in his wings and he was so fucking close he could _die._ He babbled nonsense that mostly revolved around Sam’s name and _please_ , feeling himself getting so fucking close to the edge, and they were still wearing their fucking clothes in the fucking _library –_

Sam broke away from Gabriel’s mouth, breathing hard, and he bit a claim into Gabriel’s throat with sudden ferocity. Gabriel’s entire body seized up, breath stuttering to a stop. That bite did more than tip Gabriel over the edge; it fucking _pushed_ him. Gabriel was _gone_ , lost in the endless waves of fierce pleasure and the entire world whited out around him.

He came back moments later, boneless and gasping against Sam’s chest, his pants wet and sticky. Sam was holding him close, one hand around his waist and the other flat against Gabriel’s back, moving up and down in gentle movements. Gabriel could feel Sam’s bite in his neck, sharp and a little bit painful, but he left it there, too tired to do anything about it and sort-of planning on using it to piss off Dean.

“Sam?” Gabriel’s voice was wrecked and raw.

The movement of Sam’s hand stilled. “Yeah?”

Gabriel made a soft humming noise at the sound of his name coming out of Sam’s mouth. Then he yawned. He felt sleepy, almost childlike, and wrapped himself around Sam as securely as he could. “Can we do that again?” he asked, tired and very much sated.

Sam chuckled, and it vibrated through Gabriel. “Sure, Gabe. Just as soon as you can move and think properly again.”

Gabriel considered arguing that he could move and think just fine, but decided against it in favor of wrapping himself more tightly against the hunter. “Shut up,” he muttered. Sam laughed silently, and Gabriel dozed off.

After maybe another half hour of simply lying there, Sam couldn’t take it anymore. He moved, very carefully, so that when he stood up Gabriel was still wrapped around his torso. He left the library quietly, and moved through the hallways until he found the room he’d slept in. He laid Gabriel down in the bed, the archangel snatching a pillow and curling around it, before toeing off his shoes and shucking his jeans. He stretched out next to Gabriel, and expected it when the angel ditched the pillow and wrapped around Sam instead, using his chest as a pillow.

Sam smiled very softly. He’d be telling one of the biggest lies he’d ever told if he said he hadn’t wanted this for a long while now. Gabriel was petulant and loud and flighty, but he was sweet and concerned and he cared about his brothers and about humanity. He was surprisingly insightful and willing to help. He was a Trickster and an archangel, but mostly, he was neither of those. He was just _Gabriel_. Sam let out a long breath and hoped – _prayed_ – that this was a good decision.

***

Gabriel woke up in a bed, covered partially by blankets, using a notably less clothed Sam Winchester as a pillow. He felt more normal now, though he had a feeling it would take a while for his halo to stop tingling given Sam’s delightfully thorough exploration of it. Sam was out cold underneath Gabriel, snoring slightly, one arm wrapped loosely around him while the other flailed off to the side. His hair was an absolute mess, and his mouth hung open just a little. The late afternoon sun threw dappled light across the room, and Gabriel sighed out happily, shifting position just slightly, and then winced.

Right. He’d never cleaned up. So that meant that there was dried come all over the inside of his boxers. _Gross._ He considered just cleaning up the mess, but opted for switching into a new pair of boxers and conveniently banishing the rest of his clothes while he was at it. He studied Sam, relaxed and sleeping, when a thought struck him: He owed Sam a _mind-blowing_ orgasm.

Gabriel _grinned_ at that thought, a plan developing.

He moved slowly downward, careful not to wake up Sam, and nudged his legs far enough apart that Gabriel could slide between them. He found, delightedly, that Sam was half-hard, whether it be from his dream or from their earlier activities, and ran his fingers over the faint bulge, nimbly encouraging it to full hardness. He nosed at the fabric, breathing in the earthy and metallic smell of _Sam_.

Sam blinked his eyes open tiredly, gazing down at the archangel between his legs. “Gabriel?” he sounded faintly confused. “What’re you -?”

“Shh,” Gabriel shushed him, slowly sliding down Sam’s boxers. “Just enjoy it.”

Sam let out a short breath and let his head fall back against the pillows again. Taking that as confirmation, Gabriel simply vanished the offending material, along with Sam’s shirt, and took a moment to simply admire Sam’s cock, before licking a stripe from base to tip. Sam made a small, breathy moan in response, and he made it again when Gabriel slid his tongue over the slit.

Gabriel _teased_ Sam, licking and nipping at his thighs, brushing a finger, feather light, over his balls. Sam was an absolute _wreck._ He was making _beautiful_ noises, moans and whimpers and Gabriel’s name and wordless pleas for _more_ while his cock dribbled pre-come against his stomach. Gabriel tired of playing around, eventually, and took Sam down without preamble and Sam let out a sound that was deliciously broken and pleading as his hips canted upwards and his hands clawed at the sheets.

It didn’t take very long for Sam to fall apart, the feeling of _hot_ and _wet_ combined with all of teasing and the mere thought of Gabriel falling apart under his hands earlier – especially because this was _Gabriel_ , the vengeful, biblical archangel that had a penchant for mint candies and vigilante justice. It was all more than enough to have him shaking and trembling and groaning through his orgasm.

Gabriel slid up Sam’s body so he was almost-but-not-quite resting on top of him. His hands explored, almost of their own accord, while Gabriel sucked dark, bruising claims into Sam’s chest. Sam gave into it, and let Gabriel do what he wanted while he came back down from his high. But he drew the line when Gabriel’s hair brushed against his soft and overstimulated cock while marking up Sam’s hips, and griped Gabriel’s hair _firmly._ Gabriel let out a choked noise, and allowed Sam to haul him and kiss him.

It wasn’t the kind of kiss they’d shared earlier, biting and fevered and lust-driven. It was soft and chaste and immeasurably gentle, and Gabriel _melted_ into it. Sam tasted like breakfast, coffee and pancake syrup, and he smelled like ink and books and mint. It was simple, even easy, to kiss Sam, and Gabriel was almost afraid of how content he was to just lay there kissing him, how he’d be just as content to hold the guy’s _hand._

They exchanged chaste, lazy kisses, curled up against each other. It was quiet and peaceful, yet it was also very careful, like this thing they had found themselves in was extremely delicate and could shatter at a breath of the wind.

Sam’s eyes drifted shut, and Gabriel thought he was falling asleep _again,_ when he heard, very softly, a prayer.

_Please don’t let me fuck this up. Don’t let me make him leave._

“I’m not going anywhere, Sam,” Gabriel said softly, and Sam’s eyes flew open, his breath catching.

_You can hear my prayers._

“Just your thoughts. Not all the time, but, well, it’s harder not to hear the closer you are,” Gabriel shrugged slightly. “And I mean it. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

Sam let out a long breath and his grip on Gabriel loosened very slightly. He tilted his head down to kiss him, warm and grateful, and Gabriel could _definitely_ see this going someplace interesting if he moved his leg _just so_ –

Sam’s phone rang. They both groaned. Sam threw an arm out, grabbing his phone off the side table.

“Hello?” he sighed.

“ _Dude, where the hell are you? I’ve been looking around the house for like half an hour and I don’t think I’ve hit all the floors yet. One of Gabriel’s smaller houses my ass; dude, I found a fucking bowling alley in here!_ ”

“Yeah, I found that after breakfast. I’m in one of the bedrooms,” Sam answered vaguely.

“ _Doing what, napping?”_ Dean made it sound like napping was a heinous activity.

“I’m with Gabriel.”

Absolute silence.

“ _You didn’t.”_

“Bye, Dean.”

“ _Don’t you fucking dare hang u-“_

Sam shut the phone, smirking, and let it drop into the sheets. Gabriel cackled, and quickly gathered Sam’s attention again, keeping him distracted with kissing and very insistent touches.

Sam’s phone buzzed again maybe twenty minutes, somehow between him and Gabriel. Gabriel glared at it, looking entirely ready to smite it. “If he’s calling for anything less than ‘dire importance’…” the angel trailed off threateningly. Sam hummed agreement.

“What now, Dean?” Sam sighed.

“ _If you’re not too busy getting angel nookie, I made dinner.”_

Sam glanced over at Gabriel and mouthed, ‘Dinner?’ Gabriel looked torn for a moment before nodding.

“We’ll be there in a bit.”

“ _You better be. I don’t wanna see anything nasty. Like, ever. Got it?”_

“Right back at you.”

Sam could almost see Dean cringe. “ _You’ve got ten minutes before I throw out your food.”_

The line clicked off, and Sam looked over at Gabriel. “He says we’ve got ten minutes before we don’t get dinner.”

Gabriel’s grin was snakelike and it sent shivers up Sam’s spine. “I can do _a lot_ with ten minutes.”

It ended up taking them fifteen minutes, but Dean hadn'tthrown away their food. He was too busy watching Castiel’s eyes roll back into his head while he fed him the chocolate pie he had found in the fridge.

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Gabriel put the pie there as bait for Dean, because he doesn't actually mind his little brother doing the nasty in the kitchen using food stuffs. He'd be a hypocrite if he did.


End file.
